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Many people know his father as a traitor. And for a while, so did Maverick.
The whole incident was highly classified, and Maverick can’t lie to himself enough to say that it wasn’t one of the reasons he focused on joining the Navy. Logically speaking, Maverick could’ve joined the Air Force and been treated so much better than he currently was.
To make matters worse, he still didn’t know the whole story. It’s just that now he understands that if it was a real betrayal, the Navy wouldn’t keep the incident locked up like it was. The brass would’ve had no issue preaching to the entire Armed Forces that Duke Mitchell was a traitor to the United States.
Now, this realization made Maverick think.
If the Navy never said anything about his dad being a traitor, then why were people so quick to believe the fallacy? The Navy had only said that Duke was Killed in Action whereas the rest of his squadron returned home alive. They did nothing to dissuade the idea that his father went over enemy lines to try and sell out the rest of his squadron to stay alive.
The general populace wasn’t stupid. There had to be something that led them to believe this. Maverick didn’t get the idea of what it could’ve been until he was talking to a recruiter.
His mother was Russian.
And suddenly, everything made sense.
One, his father had died in Vietnam, which was famously known as a Russo-American proxy war. They had been—indirectly—fighting Russia.
Two, his father loved his mother more than anything else in the world. He knew that for a fact. By how his mother would speak of him—even after his death, or the letters he sent back to them. He had never met his paternal grandparents, and he recognized that to be the effect of an argument between his father and his grandparents before he was born.
When his father died, his mother wasted away. He never knew why—she would never talk to him about that. But for years after, Maverick didn’t know why that had happened.
He had heard other stories of a kid’s father dying out at war and the mother stepping up and being a light in the kid’s life as they grew up. He always resented his mom for not being able to do the same. But, if he was right, he understood now.
His mother was most likely blaming herself for the way people slandered Duke’s name after his death. He didn’t forget the way that people would look at her after the announcement—with hatred and disgust.
He assumed the Navy rumor mill also began saying that his mother influenced Duke’s betrayal. He knew that his dad didn’t keep quiet about his strained relationship with his parents.
All this made perfect sense as to why people looked at Maverick sideways—because they were waiting for him to do the same…flee to Russia, of all places.
Maverick had never even been to Russia.
It also didn’t help that his mother had taught him Russian at the same time he was learning English. The younger you are, the easier it is to learn multiple languages at once.
So yeah…Maverick was Russian-American, knew both Russian and English, had an assumed traitor for a dad, and was the biggest thorn in the Navy’s side.
Awesome.
One thing that was in Maverick’s favor, however, was the fact that he looked just like his father. Unless you asked Maverick, you really couldn’t guess that he had Russian roots. It made his TOPGUN experience so much funnier.
See, there was this tall blonde guy that was in his class—who was gorgeous, by the way. His name was Tom Kazansky or Iceman. There was just one problem: they did not get along at all.
Maverick would be forced to pine for the rest of his days. He would never find common ground with this astonishingly attractive man.
This was the case, until…
“You guys really are cowboys.”
Maverick turned to face Iceman in the locker room. They had just finished their hop, getting a lock on Jester right after they hit the hard deck. Honestly, what was Maverick supposed to do about that? Tell him to his face that Jester didn’t do that on purpose, just so they wouldn’t win.
Welcome to the Chronicles of Pete Mitchell: The Story of a Traitor’s Child .
“What does it matter? We beat that son of a bitch,” Maverick replied smugly. He wasn’t going to let some technicalities get in the way of his victory.
“Below the hard deck doesn’t count,” Iceman’s RIO, Slider, told him and Goose. “Remember, no points for second place.”
Maverick rolled his eyes in a dramatic attempt to get Iceman to lose his cool. “What’s your problem, Kazansky?”
“My problem is that I don’t like flying with you, Mitchell. It’s dangerous for everyone around you. You’re too dangerous,” Iceman repeated, trying to get it in Maverick’s head.
“That’s right, Ice..! Man…” Maverick trailed off awkwardly. Nicknames are for friends , he reminded himself. The awkward tension between them broke instantly when Iceman snapped his teeth at him. Maverick stepped back in surprise at the random gesture.
“Maverick, Goose! Viper’s office, now!” Jester yelled from the locker room entrance. Maverick could hear Goose snort as they both turned to leave.
However, just before he exited the room, he heard a muttered “Какая сука (What a bitch),” from behind him.
Without a second thought, his head whipped around to see Iceman and Slider staring at them. “Sorry?” He asked. It was more for clarification because he swore that someone just cursed at him in Russian.
“What?” Slider questioned in return. “Move along, Mitchell.”
When the door to the locker room shut behind them, Maverick turned to Goose. “You said you knew them at the academy, right?”
Goose nodded. “Uh, yeah, why?”
“So which one of them just said that I was a bitch in Russian?” He snorted at the grin that Goose tried to hide from him.
“Unless Slider picked that up, that was Iceman, honey,” Goose said, his grin turning into laughter.
“Interesting…” Maverick thought out loud. “He doesn’t know I understand him.”
Goose patted him on the back. “You’re so smart, Mav.” Maverick glared at him—Goose and his southern insults. Everyone they met from the north and west thought that meant that Goose was just being kind when in reality, he was being completely sarcastic.
Just remember, geese bite. Hard.
“I want somebody’s butt, I want it now!” The Miramar Air Boss stormed away and hit someone holding a bunch of coffee. “God dammit, that’s twice! I want some butts!” Maverick and Goose were interrupted as someone walked out of Viper’s office angrily. They turned to each other slowly, unable to hold in their amusement. Goose was red in the face and Maverick almost couldn’t breathe.
“You two, get in here!”
_____________________
The next time that Iceman and Maverick faced off was at the volleyball court at Miramar Base. Nobody could deny it out here—Maverick and Goose were a match made in heaven. Despite neither of them playing a real game of volleyball in their life, they were currently wiping the floor with Iceman and Slider.
Maverick couldn’t deny it—watching Iceman and Slider trip over their feet to try and score was pretty funny.
“Let’s go!” Maverick cheered as Iceman missed the ball. Another point for them.
“How the hell do you jump so high?” Slider shouted at him from across the net.
“How the hell do you jump so low?” He countered. Iceman was wiping all the sand from his body, and Maverick couldn’t help but try and get a few looks in.
Come on, he’s just a guy. A very gay one.
When Iceman began to walk up to huddle with Slider, he turned away to face Goose. Then, he heard it again.
“Выпендриваться! (Show off!)”
“Goose, he just called me a show-off,” Maverick said. Goose just looked over Maverick’s head to see them talking frustratedly.
“I think you’re melting his patience, sweetheart.”
“I’m working on it, Goosey.”
_____________________
Another memorable incident had to be when Maverick almost exposed his entire operation.
See, what he had ended up deciding to do was to see how much he could get out of Iceman when he was speaking Russian. If Iceman had no idea that Maverick knew what he was saying, he might be more inclined to say something he normally wouldn’t.
It’s 1986. Russian isn’t exactly the most popular language to learn.
Maybe, just maybe…Maverick would figure out if Iceman truly hated him.
Iceman wasn’t even in the locker room, and neither was Slider. It was Maverick, Goose, Hollywood, and Wolfman. Goose had finally brought the notorious Polaroid that he kept bragging about.
“Come on, Mother Goose! Let us take a look!” Wolfman begged.
Goose hummed. “It’s classified,” he joked. Maverick just grabbed Goose’s wallet with a shout from the RIO and pulled the picture out. “Hey!”
“Don’t hold out on them, Goose,” he said as he turned the Polaroid to face the other pair. Wolfman took the picture to look closer.
Goose hadn’t been lying, the picture was pretty awesome. They were hovering over the MiG-28 almost as close as they could get with the vertical stabilizers on the F-14. The tinted cockpit on the MiG made it difficult to see, but the enemy pilot was staring up at them, hopefully in shock as Maverick gave him the finger.
Goose sighed at their amazement. “I know, boys. Call us notorious.”
Maverick turned to Goose with a chuckle. “Now that’s what I call Russian-on-Russian crime right there,” he said quietly to avoid any questions from Hollywood or Wolfman.
Unfortunately, he didn’t account for the people behind them.
“What was that, Maverick?” His eyes widened as he finally saw Iceman in his peripheral vision.
“Oh!” Maverick exclaimed shakily, the pitch in his voice raising considerably. “What’s good, Iceman? How are you on this…lovely day?”
“Awesome,” Iceman said, unamused. “What did you say?”
Jeez, the dude was pushy.
“I was just talking about the Polaroid. You know, the one with the finger?” He said, smiling as he purposefully stuck out his middle finger at Iceman.
“Ковбои… (Cowboys…)” Iceman muttered. Maverick couldn’t help but laugh at the half-assed insult.
“You kill me, Iceman, you really do,” he replied, turning back to Goose, who had gotten the picture back.
He needed to watch what he said if he wanted to keep hearing it. Also, up close, Iceman’s Russian accent was kind of hot…
_____________________
Over the rest of the weeks, Iceman’s insults became more endearing, at least from Maverick’s perspective.
Сука (bitch) became идиот (idiot), which was much more appealing in Maverick’s opinion. The cowboy insult stayed though, peaking his amusement.
Most notably, Iceman had begun calling him обожаемый, which meant adorable or adored, depending on the context. So, Maverick felt like they were making small footsteps in the right direction.
Hopefully, some of the next steps would be towards Iceman’s bed, but he wasn’t going to get ahead of himself. Beggars can’t be choosers.
However, Maverick didn’t need that right now. He didn’t need to be bothered.
Hop 31 was a disaster, to say the least. As Maverick and Goose waited in the water, waiting for the Coast Guard to come pick them up, his mind was in shambles. Goose had clipped the canopy—any closer and the concussion he had wouldn’t just have caused him to be out of it. He would’ve been dead.
Maverick was just thankful that Goose was still breathing. He didn’t care that he was freezing his ass off in his flight suit in Goose’s hospital room, waiting for some news.
“Thankfully, Lieutenant Mitchell, it’s not a major concussion. Only a grade 1, since Lieutenant Bradshaw never went unconscious. He has a little amnesia, he told me that he doesn’t remember getting to the water, only ejecting.” The doctor was a nice man and clearly unaware of who Maverick was.
“Thank you, sir,” he replied gratefully. “But, what does this mean for flying?” This, he needed to know. Flying with another person would be a pain, but Maverick would endure if it meant Goose was safe.
“At least a week,” the doctor told him. “To truly know how long, we need to wait until he wakes up. Though, grade 1 concussions usually heal within one to two weeks.” He smiled at the news of a quick recovery. Maverick would’ve drowned in guilt if it meant Goose wouldn’t be able to finish TOPGUN. They had two weeks left before graduation, but Maverick was confident that Goose would recover before then.
They already had enough points to graduate, so Goose would have no issue. However, both Maverick and Goose wanted to win. The dream was dying more and more the longer that Goose stayed asleep.
Maverick didn’t have the heart to wake him up, though. Goose was allowed to sleep as much as he wanted.
“Maverick?”
It was Iceman and Slider.
Maverick stood up to greet them. “Hey,” he said tiredly.
“How is he?” Iceman asked.
“Fine,” Maverick told him. “He has a concussion, but it’s nothing crazy. Doc said one to two weeks before he’s good.”
“Good, good,” Slider replied. An awkward silence ensued. Maverick was getting tired of the sad atmosphere surrounding him and Goose.
“Mad that your greatest competition is still in it?” He joked, and he saw Slider roll his eyes.
Iceman just shook his head and muttered, “Ха! ты милая. (Hah! You’re cute.)” At Maverick’s grin, he continued. “Even if nothing happened, we’d still be first.”
“Keep telling yourself that.” Maverick hadn’t missed the change in language at all, and his grin was one of reservation. Was Iceman saying that in a Goose way, or was he being honest?
Maverick never knew with this guy. However, he was not one to back down from a challenge.
___________________
When it all came to a head, it was at the Officer’s Club.
This was the bar that those who were stationed in Miramar frequented. Of course, the TOPGUN trainees were only here for a short time, so they weren’t wasting a single opportunity to…mingle with the public.
Maverick, for all everyone said that he was a ladies’ man, was very much the opposite. However, being gay was illegal in the military…and in the majority of social circles in the United States. If Maverick wasn’t himself, he might’ve let that stop him.
Of course, he didn’t get his callsign for being scared.
It was the final day of hops for the current 1986 TOPGUN class, and they were out celebrating. The decision to come to the bar was a group consensus, and they all had shown up. Maverick and Goose were currently fighting over the only open barstool remaining.
“I got here first!” Goose insisted, and Maverick shook his head in insistence.
“No, the only reason you’re saying that is because you turned the stool away from me and almost made me face-plant!” Maverick shouted over the noise of the crowded bar.
“Not my fault nobody played musical chairs with you growing up,” Goose said snarkily. Thankfully, Maverick was aware that Goose was only joking, or else he would’ve thrown shit.
“I think you owe me,” Maverick replied in exasperation. “Don’t think I didn’t hear what you and Carole were up to the other day.” Goose’s mouth dropped open in shock. “I kept Bradley busy while you two were going at it, you owe me a seat.”
Goose gave the stool up in defeat.
“Thank you,” Maverick told Goose triumphantly.
“Shut up.”
“Hey, you two!” Slider shouted, walking up to them. “You excited to see us getting that trophy?”
Maverick laughed obnoxiously in the RIO’s face and Goose snorted. “You might be drinking too much,” he quipped. “Slider is not spelled G-O-O-S-E, but nice try.”
“You tickle me, Bradshaw! But, unfortunately for you, I can read.”
“Not with that third-grade reading level, you can’t.” Maverick gained Slider’s attention with that comment. Iceman’s RIO looked down at him from where he was sitting on the barstool.
“How do you know, are you in third grade? You surely act like one.” Maverick wasn’t even paying full attention to the retort as he registered Iceman’s approach.
“Yeah, yeah. Imagine bullying someone who you think is a child,” Maverick said distractedly. “Hello, Iceman.”
“Hello yourself, Maverick,” Iceman replied. “What’s happening here?” He asked, motioning to Slider and Maverick.
“Shortstack over here called me stupid,” Slider explained to his pilot.
“Can’t help it when it’s the truth,” Maverick defended playfully, a little too smug. “Ice, I think Slider’s a little too tipsy if you get what I mean.”
As Iceman looked at his RIO questioningly, Slider rolled his eyes in return. “You only think that because you’re a lightweight.”
“I guarantee I could out-drink you any time of the day,” Maverick challenged with no real intent. He was very aware of the fact that Slider could likely out-drink him twice over. However, Slider was drunk enough to rise to the bait.
“Wanna bet, shrimp?”
“Yeah,” Maverick replied jokingly. “I’ll bet you a buck that I can.”
“An entire buck ?” Slider’s eyes widened considerably. Maverick just turned to Goose, laughing at the realization of how drunk Slider actually was.
Iceman, who was now next to Maverick watching the entire scene play out, snorted in amusement. “Дерьмоголовые (Shitheads),” Iceman said with a laugh. “Stop picking on my RIO.”
“Hey, you can’t call me a shithead if he’s the one who started it,” Maverick replied to the quip. Iceman was taking a long time for a reply, and Maverick turned to see why. He looked at the man to see him staring at Maverick in shock.
“What?” Iceman asked.
Then, Maverick realized why he was so shocked—he had accidentally replied to Iceman’s Russian retort, thinking nothing of it. He just looked at Goose for help, who shrugged. There was nothing Goose could do to get him out of this.
“Huh?” He tried his best to look confused, but Iceman wasn’t buying it.
“Вы можете говорить по-русски? (Can you speak Russian?)” Maverick just turned back to the bar and got a drink from the bartender. He just began to drink the bottle silently with no further explanation. “Goose, can he speak Russian?”
“Totally not.”
Goose was never a good liar.
“You heard everything I’ve been saying?” Iceman asked Maverick again.
“I’m too drunk for this conversation,” Maverick deflected.
“No, you’re not.” Iceman took the drink from his hand. “Russian?” Maverick’s lack of reply was more than telling. “Sorry if I’ve been making you uncomfortable,” he tried.
“Uh,” Maverick started, slowly turning to face him. “No, you haven’t.” He looked for Goose to reassure himself, but he was gently leading Slider away from the two pilots. Clearly, Goose wanted them to hash it out themselves.
“I haven’t?” Iceman tried to clarify. “I literally called you an обожаемый идиот (adorable idiot) the other day.” Maverick gave a slight shrug.
“I…” Maverick trailed off, unsure of what to say next. “I…don’t really mind?”
“Is that a good thing?” Iceman asked.
“I mean…” Maverick looked around quickly before continuing. “Честно говоря, ты очень сексуальная (Honestly, you’re really hot). Я не знал, нравится ли тебе такое... ну, знаешь... (I didn't know if you liked that kind of, uh... you know...).”
“Я не хочу перегибать палку (I don’t want to overstep),” Iceman replied.
“Если вы не возражаете (If you don’t mind).” Iceman and Maverick didn’t know what else to say. It was hard to have this conversation, unknowing of how acceptable it was to the other. Had Maverick read all of the signs correctly, or was he going to be discharged from the Navy tomorrow? “Uh, Гей? (Gay?)”
Iceman laughed out loud, to Maverick’s surprise. “Да, Маверик (Yes, Maverick).”
“Значит, вы не будете возражать, если мы… (So, you wouldn’t mind if we, uh…)”
“Давайте убираться отсюда (Let’s get out of here).”